WARNING!

If you don’t care for terrifically prolific cussing, walk away from your computer right now. This one is going to be a doozie! 😉

So, you guys know I love me a good massage. I live for them really. I’d marry a massage if I could. And I have an amazing therapist, Grayson, who rules the school. But before I met Grayson, I’d bought a Groupon for a 90-minute massage somewhere else and I got it today.

Upon arrival and meeting him, I told him that normally I’m pretty tough but that I was super sore from having to dump about 150 buckets of water away from my house’s foundation earlier in the week due to all the insane flooding. (Almost 6 inches of rain in less than 24 hours!) As such, I asked him to go super easy on me because everything hurt. He said to just let him know if the pressure was too much or too little and he’d adjust. So far, so good.

I strip, get up on the table, he comes in and the very first thing he does is push on my back SO FUCKING HARD that my poor boobies smash into the table (ummm…sir, the table is fucking hard and my DD boobs ain’t got nowhere to go). And that’s how the internal dialog began. Prepare yourself.

Action: Boob smashing

Internal Dialogue: WHAT THE SHIT! OUCH! Only a man who has no boobs would smash a woman who obviously has tremendous ta-tas into a table with the force of 3 gorillas. Dip shit.

Action: Digging his bony-ass fingers (similar in appearance and pain-dealing to the Grim Reaper’s) into what I’m pretty sure was bone and not muscle in my shoulder blade.

External Dialogue: Would you mind going lighter, please? Like I said, I’m really sore so I’m a bit more delicate than I’d usually be.

Result: Not only did he continue to massage my fucking kidneys through bone, muscle or whatever the fuck is between a kidney and your skin, I’m pretty sure he used a dull, rusty pocket knife to actually remove one. Possibly for sale on the black market.

Interim Action: 15 more minutes of, honest to God, abject misery. Shouldn’t a massage therapist inherently know that when their client is making a fist over and over again and making squeaky “I’m clearly dying” noises AND has asked him multiple times to use less pressure, that they should STOP FUCKING KILLING THEIR CLIENT????

Action: Uncovers the back of my thigh (which I specifically mentioned before we started was incredibly sore) and takes those daggers he calls fingers and starts strumming my hamstring like he’s playing the fiddle in The Devil Went Down to Georgia. Seriously, like the freedom of his soul depended on tearing out my hamstring and tying a bow with it.

Internal Dialog: THAT FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKING HURTS!!!! You Hitler mother fucker. Did you get your license JUST TO TORTURE people? Did you wake up this morning, throw a dart at your schedule and decide, “Yep, it’s Jodi Ambrose today. I’m going to make her wish she died in a violent car accident on her way here. Heh heh heh (insert creepy, evil laugh).”

External Dialog: Seriously, you gotta lighten up on me. Just pretend I’m an arthritic 90-year-old with osteoporosis and a low threshold for pain.

Result: NOT ONE MOTHER FUCKING OUNCE OF LESSENING UP ON THE HORROR!!!! Not even a little. NONE. WHAT THE EVER-LOVING FUCK?

Interim Action: More abject misery. Me trying to figure how to get the fuck outta there without jumping off the table and having my ta-tas flying all over the place and my ass shining up in the air. Me wishing his balls would rot off in a leprosy kind of way. Me wondering why in the hell I haven’t freaked out more on this fuckhead. Me thinking that somehow all this “deep tissue” fuckin’ nightmare will, in the end, be good for my aching muscles. Me praying for a meteor to fly down from Heaven and kill both him and me immediately (preferably just him, but I figure a meteor would be too big to target just him–I’d be collateral damage and I’d be okay with that).

Internal Dialog: If you even think of touching my tits I’m gonna fucking brain you with a hammer. You got that, old man? YOU FUCKIN’ HEAR ME??? I’LL KILL YOU AND YOUR WHOLE FAMILY!

External Dialog: No, thank you.

Result: I did not have to kill the mother fucker because he did not touch boobies. Hence, I am not covered in blood and being processed by the police. I think of that as a win/win.

So, finally, this God-forsaken nightmare comes to a close. I asked him no less than 8 times to ease up. He literally NEVER did until the last 5 minutes–I’m guessing because that’s when he’s starting to think about what kind of tip I’m going to give him and he wants to go out on a high note. Well, here’s a tip, you fuck-headed fuck fuck: Don’t ever let me see you crossing the street when I’m driving.

There’s my saga du jour. I was soooooo looking forward to getting all of my sore muscles rubbed out. Now I need a Vicodin and another massage to survive the one I just PAID GOOD MONEY to endure.

I’m going to go with pain being a character builder in order to find a silver lining. But in my deepest, darkest and not-so-private thoughts, all I can think is, “You are very fucking lucky that real life isn’t like that movie The Purge where murder is legal for a day. You’d be at the top of my list, fuck face.”

With that, I’m off to fry up a bagel and watch me some Project Runway!!

Okay, to say you’ve been warned is an understatement. I did an entire preemptive blog post about NOT READING THIS! 😉

It really is sinfully inappropriate and has VERY bad cuss words (yes, including THE worst word as far as women are concerned). So, if you read this, read at your own risk.

Now that the disclaimers are on the table, let’s get down to the good stuff. 🙂

I had a job a while ago and hired a wonderful man to work for me. He is the funniest, smarmiest Brit and we got along famously from the moment we met. Of course, as a boss I was initially such a good girl around him (meaning I didn’t say, “Fuckedy fuck fuck fuck” and kept my sass mouth to a minimum).

Well, one day while in the studio one of us (I don’t even recall who) slipped and said Fuck and no one cared (duh…). All I remember thinking is that it was such a relief to know that we could talk like normal people and not worry about our language.

Well…from that point on it just got wonderfully worse and worse. Then we started hanging out outside of work and became even better friends.

Even though he was technically my employee, I certainly considered him more of a coworker as we busted ass together everyday to get the job done. I became “Boss Lady” and he became “Minion.” We still hang out and have the most egregious conversations that make me laugh and laugh and laugh.

So, we finally got to the point where our one liners would make us giggle so hard that we created twitter pages and would post the awful things one another would say. But the good part was that what we’d say was still totally organic and not for the sake of posting it. We just kept on like we always had, but occasionally documented the craziness. Below is a sample of the hideous shit that would come out of our mouths. I’ll start with my unforgivable sassiness, then move on to his.

I hope this actually makes you laugh as none of it (well, 98% of it) doesn’t have a single mean thought behind it. It was all just for comic relief as we worked in a fucking nut house and needed to let of steam lest we burn the place to the ground.

Enjoy!

FROM ME TO MY LOVELY MINION

“I rule. Never forget it lest ye be reminded in unpleasant, analy intrusive ways.” (Really, just a general observation that anyone working for me should believe down deep in their heart.)

“Go masturbate to midget porn in the parking lot.” (I figure sometimes a man needs an unusual kind of release!)

“I will dress in all vinyl and lick shoes.” (On how I could launch a fetish website where I don’t actually show any body parts but charge a fortune to pervs who like shoe licking.)

To another coworker: “Bitch, I will knock you out.” (And I will, dammit!)

“I’m the girl that goes to Albertson’s to take a shit.” (God…I can’t believe I’m not deleting this one. Well, any of you who’ve read my Intimacy book already know this. Someone kill me, please? I share way too much.)

“With a little ketchup, children taste like chicken.” (Yeah, I don’t know. I’m a horrible person.)

“I’m nothing if not offensive.” (Ain’t that the truth!)

“I think my boobs grew overnight. They won’t stay wrangled today.” (THEY WOULDN’T! Sometimes it feels like either elves came in during the night and tailored my bra a size smaller or God went “Ding!” and grew them a size while I slept. I’ll never understand but woo hoo to big boobies!)

“I have no dignity, it’s all been raped out of me.” (Yep. Truly horrible. But we giggled like school children in church.)

“The number of old men that have seen my boobies…” (Okay, I don’t really think there are that many…but for some reason the comment seemed apropos at the time.)

“She’s so douchey I can smell vinegar all the way over here.” (Honest to God, that bitch was such a douche that I wanted to start calling her Eve…as in Summer’s…)

“Go gay. You can share clothes.” (I think this is a great idea for everyone!)

“Cantaloupe, my friend. I’ll bring in a wig you can stick on it tomorrow.” (Okay, side story to this one. I always think that if I were a guy I’d stick my pecker into all sorts of things. I think I’d start with a warm cantaloupe. Cut out a hole and have at it. Seems perfect! So, I used to share that philosophy with some of my friends at work and even created a Ms. Cantaloupe name plate with her photo on it—a cantaloupe with a blonde wig, big blue eyes and pouty red lips. Needless to say it was just wonderfully horrifying. So, I said that lovely comment to my wonderful minion when he was whining about not getting laid enough. Ha!)

“Fuck a duck.” (An oldie, but a goodie.)

“My dear, you are so sweet and I appreciate it, but FUCK THAT TWAT!” (In response to my lovely minion apologizing to me about a situation we got into at work with the girl that smelled douchy. Tee hee hee. She is/was/will always be a major twat!)

“I’m going to bring a dick to work, just so you can suck it.” (This is one of my all-time favorites. I thought my minion was going to choke to death he was laughing so hard.)

FROM MY MINION TO ME

“I’m not into water sports, but whenever I see Fergie I kinda want to pee on her. Is that weird.”(YES that’s weird, you fucktard! But a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do.)

“Had a dog assplosion. On my way.” (A text explaining why he was late to work. He was usually late and I didn’t care, but I loved this particular excuse.)

“In one sentence I cock blocked the dude she was with and made her cry. WIN!” (Horrible man! Though the girl to which he is referring was a total hosebeast, so I can’t fault him too much.)

“In the words of a wise woman I USED to like, ‘Eat a bag of dicks.'” (Quoting me, because I say horrible things! He only USED to like me cause I left and went to a new job, stranding him with all the asshats we used to take on as a team. Poor thing…)

“Kill me plzthxbye.” (I’m always willing to lend a guy an ax…or hammer…or some other device for killing. I’m that kind of friend!)

“Dear Jesus, thank you for Soma and weed… Without these things I would surely scalp my current boss and violate her corpse in a fit of rage… Which might create a bit of a legal snag.” (After I left my job, my wonderful ex-minion texted me this about his new boss. Ha! I felt so loved and missed!)

“Buses? How the fuck do you spell the plural of buss?!?! I need another drink.” (Yep, not always sober at work. 😉 )

“…other than the fact that you like to encourage me to make love to inanimate objects, you mean?” (Look, if a man is having a dry spell I’m all about encouraging the use of alternative forms of relief. I’m non-judgmental like that!)

“Because you’re a sick cunt.” (While you might think this is just horrible, that shit made me laugh soooo hard!! Who says that?? To their boss? It was awesome. God only knows what I said to warrant such a comment—probably something equally horrible, if not worse. 😉 )

“I just bought a mentally challenged guy a whiskey. That makes me a philanthropist, right?” (Good Lord…this is wrong in so many ways…He’s clearly going to Hell.)

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.” (Yep, you can see why I like him so much! That kinda talk is right up my alley!)

“For the record, I didn’t start the fight.” (Yeah, yeah…that’s what they all say.)

“I now have one less item on my bucket list. Just watched a deaf girl sing karaoke.” (Bless her heart! I’m a total karaoke chicken—I could take a lesson from such a brave girl!)

“What in the name of Jupiter’s asshole is True Cloud?” (Does Jupiter have a butt? I learn something new everyday.)

“Portable studio? Rape dungeon? No one can hear you scream.” (Rape dungeon! Holy shit. You’d think this might make me scared of him and the millions of hours we’d spend alone at the office…alas, it just made me pass out laughing. This was in reference to us getting a functional recording studio that could move around at the whim of a bunch of bosses who think letting you stay in the same fucking desk area for more than two weeks is a shit idea. Fuckheads.)

“There’s something sinister about eating eels that just came out of your own asshole.” (Honest to God…I don’t want to know. Isn’t eating anything out of one’s backside kinda fucked up?)

“Is it weird that I’m erect now?” (I assume all men are erect all the time. So no. Not weird.)

“Okay, I’m going to find a ram to sacrifice for you.” (How sweet! I’ve never had anyone sacrifice anything for me before. I feel all special.)

“Why are they killing our cube?” (Yep, yet another example of bosses moving us around for no good damn reason. Whoever wrote the business book“Who Moved My Cheese?” should be shot and killed. I can only imagine that businesses have spent $10,000,000,000,000,000 simply moving their employees from desk to desk to desk because God forbid anyone get comfortable at the office. It might actually lead to an employee being happy on occasion. PS: For those of you who know that piece of shit book, I one time had to dress up like one of the mice and perform like a trained monkey at a sales conference. It was horrible. I did NOT get paid enough money to make such an ass of myself. Total SUCK!)

“If it weren’t for alcohol, I’d probably be a serial killer. I’d only target morons though.” (I’m pretty sure he is a serial killer. He gets this look on his face that thrills me and terrifies the masses. I know he’s a kitten on the inside…way, way, way, way down deep.)

“I’m awesome, but I’m not a prostitute.” (Then, my friend, you are not awesome.)

So there you have it. While I do NOT miss that job one tiny bit (wanted to die everyday), I totally miss the insane amounts of fun my minion and I had together. We worked hard but managed to take the edge off with truly horrible discourse. Love him for making my days brighter through inappropriate behavior. Woo hoo!

Hope you aren’t all disgusted beyond belief, but remember, I warned you so NO GUFF! 😉

Love ya! Have a great weekend! XO

PS: My minion is the same person who turned me onto Angry Birds. FUCKER! At least I finally kicked that habit…now if only Candy Crush would explode and die. 😉

Yep, this is the first time I’m doing a preemptive strike blog post! 🙂

I’m working on a fun little post full of the most horribly inappropriate things ever. It harkens back to a day when a former employee of mine and I would have SO MUCH FUN at the office. He was (and is) one of the coolest people on earth, and like me has little-to-no filter.

I’m not done with the post yet, but when I do publish it in the next few days and say, “DON’T READ THIS OR YOU MIGHT GO BLIND, INSANE OR END UP SUCKING YOUR THUMB IN A RUBBER ROOM” I just want you to know that I mean it. 😉

Honest to God, it’s just one of those things that struck he and I funny (I don’t think “he and I” is right, but “him and me” seems wrong too!) while we worked our assess off and were in need of some comic relief. We managed to jot down some of the funniness and that’s what I’ll be sharing. But is has so many horrible cuss words, sick and fucked up thoughts and seriously non-PC stuff in it that I just wanted to give you fair warning.

I don’t want to burn anyone’s retinas with what they’ll read, nor do I want any guff about how hideous some of the one-liners are. 😉

So, consider yourself forewarned! (Though I think most of you who visit me here often will enjoy it as we are all a bit fiesty!)

PS: Here’s what you might look like as you read through my next post–though I’m guessing there might be a giggle or two in there too. XOXOXOXO

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